by Gina Chick

[Please note: This article contains sexually explicit material – ed.]


I just had sex with someone I would normally never get into bed with.

It was one of the sweetest experiences I have ever had.

Internet dating. It’s still a whole new world for me.

We met for a date after a week of banter, and as soon as I saw him I had that ‘oh-shit’ feeling of realising that he was catastrophically awkward and nervous.

I guard against that these days by going straight to phone calls after the initial Internet contact. For me chemistry is not in the text messages. Chemistry is in voice and energy. Chemistry is live and cannot be faked or pushed. My body just knows, yes or no, usually when I hear someone’s voice, definitely when I first see them.

We’d had some great conversations, easy and funny and there was something odd about him, but I am a strangeling myself and underneath his oddness was a super intelligent, witty man with whom conversation flowed. So I said yes to dinner and in my head was planning to take him home. Because it’s been a while and I am not looking for happily ever after at this point, and I am a tantric sex bomb with a body built for sin and I know how to drive it. No shame there. And it’s been a while and I was antsy. Kinda climbing the walls.


He walked into the restaurant and I immediately thought, “oh well, that’s it, it’ll be a nice dinner.” He was terrified and frozen and almost stuttering, so I talked a lot and he asked all the right questions and gradually relaxed and I found myself chuckling inside because I liked him, he was honest and curious. He was a gigantically big-brained nerd and he has turned his attention to spirituality and found a way to reconcile science and spirit, has found Buddhism and meditation and now he wants to find out everything, he’s open to all the possibilities.

He didn’t judge, was fascinated by everything I said, not as artifice or manipulation. Genuinely fascinated. Which it turns out, is sexy.

I started wondering what his kisses would be like. At that moment he kissed me, tiny little bird pecks so soft I could hardly feel them.

“Oh dear,” I thought. There was no passion, no fire, no heat. Nothing to fan the flames of my desire.

But my rightness wouldn’t let it go. I could feel the tiger locked in there. So I took him home and encouraged him to unleash, and oh boy was it worth the effort. For me, making love is an art form and I am an artist. We all are, inside somewhere; it’s just a matter of coaxing that part out.

I introduced him to some Tantra and he was a quick study. Still awkward, but gorgeous with it. I told him exactly what I needed, hands, mouth, all of it; what pressure, what angle, what speed, how and when and where. He paid attention, to our mutual satisfaction. I probably had about ten orgasms, though I lost count after three or four.

Turns out the last time he had had sex with someone new was 20 years ago. Afterwards he said, “So… are you more sexual than other women?”

I laughed and said, “There are more of us out there.”

“I’ve never had sex like that, ever. I didn’t know women could have orgasms like that. I didn’t know you could communicate and talk during sex. You just told me what to do. I didn’t know women could do that either.” He’s mid 40s, and just had great sex for the first time in his life.

For me, making love is an art form and I am an artist. We all are, inside somewhere; it’s just a matter of coaxing that part out.

It got me thinking about women’s sexualities.

Back in my late 20s to late 30s I went through a period where I identified as gay. I had sex with women. I have also had sex with men. So I have accumulated a bit of experience, and I speak from that place. I’m not saying all this is true for you, but it’s true for me.

When it comes to sex, women tend to be a combination lock. Our emotional state factors in hugely; are we angry or sad or frustrated or needy or feeling unseen or unloved? Have the kids been hanging off us all day like baby birds with their mouths endlessly open? Have I got the promotion, does my bum look big in these jeans are the lights horrible is there music what if I don’t get wet and he notices and I haven’t had a shower do I… you know… smell?

And then there is the physical, mechanical stuff. Some like it up and down, some like round and round. Some like a pointy tongue tip, others need flat pressure. Some like their clitoris sucked; for others this means immediate desensitising. Hood on or hood off? Fingers hooked in to the g-spot or fingers thrusting or no fingers at all? And that’s before we even get to penetration… tip or shaft, deep or shallow? Teasing or fierce?

What about that moment when we are done, we have had enough, we want to stop, and feel obligated to keep going even if it now hurts or we are silently gritting our teeth and bearing it?

When it comes to sex, women tend to be a combination lock.

The pressure to have an orgasm very often kills any chance of it actually happening. Sometimes it is easier to just give up on the whole thing, or fake it to bring the whole sordid act to an end.

How on Earth are men expected to figure all of this out if we don’t tell them? Seriously, how? I feel for men. The pressure must be huge as they go in; either they become bloodhounds on the scent, alert for every subtle change in body language, every sigh and moan, or they give up and just pound their way to their own pleasure, because frankly it’s all too hard to figure out. And we aren’t telling them.

We aren’t telling them.


Last night, my lover was so grateful for that small act: me simply telling and showing him what I needed, and as soon as he strayed from what worked, gently correcting; “not like that, please, like this.” He was an eager and attentive student of my body.

It strikes me that getting our needs met is a huge part of women being powerful in the world. And for a million reasons, many (if not most) women feel like they have no voice. It feels impossible to say anything. Whether it is in bed or in a job or a relationship. Not like that, like this. This works for me. I need. We can be paralysed in so many situations because from some young age we have been taught that it is not safe to have needs, let alone express them.

I need.

Neediness has become a swear word, where for me, needs are just that. Needs. Not optional extras, not fringe benefits. They are needs. We have bodies that need to be touched the right way, and when they are, we flower and bloom into ecstasy, which our lovers adore and want more of. If they’re actual lovers, that is. We need intimacy and love and connection, we need to feel nourished and fulfilled for ourselves in our lives, not just in service to everyone else. We need to have parts of our lives just for us, where we come first.

We come first. Pun intended.

And hopefully second, third, fourth and fifth.

How on Earth are men expected to figure all of this out if we don’t tell them? Seriously, how?

This didn’t come naturally to me, by the way. Speaking my needs in sex. I worked on this over decades, and it was often excruciatingly difficult. First saying one thing. Just one thing that I wanted. Then two things. It was hard to speak for a very long time. But if you too are on that path, my fine sister (or brother), I encourage you to persevere. Tantra workshops can be a great place to explore your needs and desires in a safely held environment.

Desire is sexy. Sexual energy is life force in motion. Our bodies are designed to hold it and channel it and through this Kundalini unfurling, our awareness will expand into states of bliss. If we are to get the most out of this miracle of a creation we call a body, a bit of gentle guidance to the person in our bed makes all the difference.

And if you are a lover of women, and the woman you are with isn’t speaking up, you can invite her to do so. Say, “Show me how you do it. Show me how you touch yourself.

It is such a simple thing, but it can unlock so much. Show me. It says: “I am interested, I am curious, I want to know. I will pay attention. Your body is divine and special to me and I want to know how to please you. Show me. Tell me.”

Sometimes women are shy at first, but with encouragement they can be coaxed into revealing what works for them, especially if you keep asking. Women will often deflect out of habit: “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.” Or many of us harbour a secret fear – it’ll take too long. But persistence pays off and once she realises that you really do want to know, and you show her that you have heard her by doing things the way she has communicated, and that she is allowed to enjoy this too, and that you don’t mind taking some time for her, everything can open up into a whole new realm of shared bliss.

So let’s all speak up!

It strikes me that getting our needs met is a huge part of women being powerful in the world. And for a million reasons, many (if not most) women feel like they have no voice. It feels impossible to say anything.

Last night’s date has gone on his way now, all fired up about learning Tantra. I’m sitting in a cafe with a smile on my face and a delicious humming in my body, knowing that an experience that could have been a total disaster was a beautiful dance of mutual sexual magic. I may never see him again, but I know he is going to be spreading the joy from our encounter, and I reckon he’s going to be doing some workshops and exploring a whole new universe of the body and bringing bliss to women along the way.


Photos provided by Gina Chick.

About the Writer


Gina Chick is an Australian writer, singer songwriter, healer, group facilitator and all round surfer of the big waves of life. Through her business called Wild Heart, she runs 'Heart of the Huntress' women's retreats and vision quests. She is a teacher-in-training for Gabrielle Roth's 5Rhythms, teaching 'Sacred Grooves' 5Rhythms dance classes in NSW.

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